


Touch Up

by Zephyrfox



Series: Legends in the Multiverse [6]
Category: GoldenEye (1995), James Bond (Classic movies), James Bond (Craig movies), Legends (2014)
Genre: M/M, Sequel, Soulmarks, Tattoos, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 03:06:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11477334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox
Summary: Many years have passed since Alec Trevelyan lost six months of his life to another identity - a time he can't quite remember. Now, the souvenirs of that time are fading, and he faces a choice.





	Touch Up

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Legends in the Multiverse](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9525170) by [Zephyrfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox). 
  * Inspired by [Real Legend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7351723) by [Zephyrfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephyrfox/pseuds/Zephyrfox). 
  * Inspired by [Different Paths](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8576473) by [jaimistoryteller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaimistoryteller/pseuds/jaimistoryteller). 



> This is the sequel to Legends of the Multiverse, a story which draws upon my Real Legend and upon Jaimistoryteller's Different Paths.

 

Q gently traced the lines of the tree tattooed on Alec's hip. “You want to get a touch up? Why?”

Alec smiled. They were in bed, cuddling together on a lazy Sunday morning. James had just gotten up, and was putting together a breakfast they could eat in bed.

He ran his hand through the silvering strands of Q's hair. He understood the confusion — Q and James had never been comfortable talking about the tattoos. Neither of his lovers had understood his reluctance to get the tattoos removed, either. After all, he didn’t even remember getting them.

He’d slipped into another identity, Aleksei Sokolov. It had been a follow on result of the drugs and mind wiping he’d experienced that left him thinking he was an amnesiac FBI agent named Martin Odum. He had no idea where Aleksei had come from — that identity had never been one of his legends.

When James got him to remember who he really was, he found that it was six months later than he’d remembered it being, and he had two new tattoos. A storm cloud on his left side, and a rowan on his right hip. He had no idea why he had gotten them as Aleksei, but they were obviously important — and he didn’t want to get them removed.

The reason for that was twofold. He felt some measure of comfort from the tattoos, for all that they were essentially forced on him unwilling; and, of course, it would be a long and probably painful process to remove them. As extensive as the tattoos were, the skin underneath them might end up damaged. Better to leave them be.

But now they were faded and dull, and that sent a pang of regret mixed with sadness and loss through him.

“Do you remember anything more about them?” Q's question interrupted his thoughts.

“Sometimes I get flashes. It's as though I don't remember things that happen to Aleksei, here, for those six months. I remember being somewhere else. Russia.” They had discussed this, too, many times over the years. He remembered names, sometimes, from the hazy memories he had of Russia — memories that made no sense. He’d been here, in London, as Aleksei.

He’d researched the names, once. Dayesi Malinina. Lidiya Raskova. Pyotr Bogdan. None of them existed, and he’d been left with an inexplicable grief that had taken a few weeks to subside.

Q hummed, and his fingers shifted to the cloud, making Alec squirm at the ticklish sensation along his ribs. “You're not just doing it because you feel old?”

He froze, surprised at the blunt question. Then he forced his hand to continue carding through Q's hair. “Why do you ask that?”

“Because the tattoos have faded, reminding you that you're no longer as young as you were. And you and James left active service last year. You're bored.”

He couldn't argue that. He and James hadn't been active in MI6 for some time. Aiden had moved out, and Q still went to work. An elderly quartermaster wasn't a detriment on the job. His experience made him that much more valuable.

Aches and pains were catching up with all of them, but he wasn't trying to recapture his youth, or even 15 years ago. He'd traced the lines of the tattoos one morning after his shower, noticing how faded they were, and his heart had thumped painfully.

He owed it to — who? Himself? — To make the faded colors bright again. He didn't quite know how to explain it to Q, though. “I think of James as the storm. I'm not sure why.”

Q met his eyes, watching him thoughtfully, and then nodded. Q’s chin rubbed against his chest. “I can see James as a storm. His energy can be as wild and sudden as a storm.”

Alec nodded, “Yes. And I think of you as the tree.” He waited for a response. Would Q understand?

Q was quiet. Questing fingers slipped downward, smoothing against his hip and then back up on a diagonal, to linger on the cloud. “It's not so much you trying to keep the colors bright in the flush of youth as it is to keep symbols for James and me safe?”

“Yeah.”

“I guess it really doesn't matter what James or I think — it’s your body. At least this time, you’re making a conscious choice regarding them?” Q’s hazel eyes regarded him solemnly.

He smiled, relieved that Q wasn’t going to object to his idea. He raised his voice — “What do you think, eavesdropper?”

James entered the bedroom, carrying a tray with a carafe of juice and plates of cut fruit, cheese, and bread. His concerned ice blue eyes locked onto Alec’s as he walked around the bed to put the tray down on their nightstand. Then James climbed into bed, curling himself around Alec, and said quietly, “Are you sure?”

James’ voice held a note of guilt. James had always regretted not being able to find him in time to keep him from getting the tattoos.  

“It’s never been your fault, love.” Alec shifted so he could pull James even closer. A thought struck him when James didn’t respond. Worried, Alec asked, “Do you… hate them?”

James shook his head. “No. They’re a part of you, now. If they were gone, it would be… odd. But Q’s right. I want to be sure it’s your choice, because you want to, not because it’s something you think you are obligated to do.”

“It’s what I want. Would you… ” He hesitated, looking from James to Q. “Would you come with me? I’d like you to be there.”

“Of course we’ll be there.” Q spoke firmly, without checking with James, who simply nodded in support.

 

~~~~

 

Alec discovered that the tattoo artist who had originally done the tattoos had retired years before. After inquiring at the studio the artist had worked in, he got another name, and made the appointment. The touch ups would take a few hours each.

The artist had been a bit surprised that two other men besides her customer would be in the studio, but she had shrugged and gotten down to the business at hand. The only snag had been when James and Q decided they would get tattooed as well — although their tattoos would be much smaller than his.

Alec lay back in the chair, feeling the bite of the needle as it pierced his skin, and watched his lovers. James and Q were right beside him, as they should be.

  


**Author's Note:**

> I love reviews, comments, and any other sort of communication. Feel free to stop in to say hi - you can find me on Tumblr at leavesdancing.tumblr.com.


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